


To Be Learned

by madame_d



Series: Lab!Sync [2]
Category: Popslash
Genre: AU, M/M, Melodrama, angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-29
Updated: 2004-12-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:50:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 2 of Lab!Sync series, but can be read by itself. An AU set in a research lab with Chris/Nick (who are still together), JC/Lance (who aren't), Joey (who is still featured only minorly), and Justin (who is still everyone's bitch, albeit a confused one).</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be Learned

**Author's Note:**

  * For [without_me](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=without_me).



> **WARNING** : These people work in a lab and perform _animal experiments_. There is a graphic description of such in the story. Please abstain if that is an issue for you.

Chris finally allows himself to breathe freely when he sees his condo building out of the windows of the cab. When the taxi stops, he throws two twenties at the driver, and grabs his bags from the trunk without waiting for the guy to get out and help. The heat of the day has finally let up, and Chris thinks they weren't lucky this year; they only got three days of spring before the oppressive heat had settled in, and it's only mid-April.

He fumbles a little with the keys once he gets to his door because he's holding two bags aside from his laptop case, and also, he's been on a plane, which usually involves legal mind-altering substances because Chris hates flying. So he's a little out of it, and maybe not sure how to handle all his bags in one hand while he gets the door open.

Also, it's three in the morning and Chris isn't supposed to be here, yet; originally, his flight wasn't until mid-afternoon the next day, but Chris maybe sort of misses Nick like crazy, and there wasn't anything interesting happening on the last day of the conference anyway, so Chris moved his flight up by twelve hours. As he opens the door, he hopes Nick is here, in Chris's bed, and not at the apartment he sublets from Joey and shares with Justin, since he isn't expecting Chris until tomorrow.

Chris drops the bags in the hallway, placing his laptop case on the chair, and stumbles into the half bathroom on the first floor to brush his teeth and gargle. Five minutes later, he's in his bedroom, stripped down to his underwear, and sliding between the cool sheets. He rolls over, and hallelujah, there's a warm body in his bed, and hopefully, it's Nick. 

It is. He raises his head, gives Chris a sleepy smile, and nuzzles Chris's shoulder.

"Chris?" 

Chris makes a soothing, shushing sound and whispers, "Yeah."

"You're back early," Nick mumbles, then rolls over, his arm warm and heavy across Chris's belly, and falls asleep again. Chris kisses his temple softly, breathing in the sleepy-sweet scent of his boy, wiggles to make himself comfortable in bed, and goes to sleep as well.

He's having a really good, really sexy dream, and Nick's in it, doing unmentionable naughty things to Chris's body, and Chris has only a moment to think that he's too old to be having wet dreams before he's coming, gasping for breath, his back cracking where he's arched off the bed. He forces his eyes open and Nick is grinning at him from between Chris's legs, mouth red and swollen and shiny, and there's a smudge of come at the corner.

Chris twitches, and Nick licks his lips and smacks them loudly.

"Hi, honey, welcome home," he quips, since Chris seems to be at a loss for words. "Have a good trip?"

Chris nods. He's still pre-verbal following the mind-blowing orgasm and yeah, he's missed this part a lot. He tugs Nick down to sprawl over him and kisses his ear. 

A few moments later, he's capable of speaking again, so he tells Nick, "Let me brush my teeth and take a post-flight shower and I'll come back to bed and ravish you the way you deserve."

"Mmm, you sweet-talker you," Nick teases, but rolls onto his back and settles like he's not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.

When Chris finally slides out of bed and is heading for the bathroom, Nick drops a bomb that makes Chris freeze in the doorway.

"Hey, Chris? Don't know if you heard, but Lance and JC broke up."

Chris slides down the wall, plopping on the floor by the doorframe. "Well, fuck," he says, wincing. This is very not good.

"Lance is cool with it. I saw him at work yesterday, after the shit hit the fan the night before, I think, and he said he was fine, that it sucks but he'll live."

Chris tips his head against the wall, closing his eyes. Knowing Lance a bit better than Nick, and a lot more intimately, he knows for sure that Lance is far from 'fine' and definitely not 'cool with it.' He wonders if he should call Lance and offer a shoulder to cry on or if it's too early, in Lance-time, to do that. He mentally reviews all the deadlines, already planning to get things done without Lance, because he doesn't think Lance is going to be around the lab in the near future.

Chris feels a hand on his kneecap and opens his eyes to see Nick crouching next to him, a frown marring his pretty face. Chris runs his index finger down the little wrinkle between Nick's brows, smoothing it, then pulls Nick's head to him and kisses the spot.

"Don't worry, babe. I'm fine. I'm sad for them but I'm fine. Did Lance say why?"

Nick shrugs. "No. And JC wasn't there so I couldn't ask him."

"Maybe we shouldn't, for a while, okay? They're probably in a really bad place right now. I never thought I'd see the day when those two split."

Nick looks worried again, and Chris wonders if he's nervous about their own relationship. He looks into Nick's pretty eyes, searching, then pulls his boyfriend close and kisses him, gently, tenderly, a soft kiss to let him know that he's there for support and love and everything in-between.

They separate and Chris leans his forehead against Nick's. "I love you," he says. They don't say that often; Chris frequently and loudly proclaims that they're not girls and do not need to be 'mushy,' but Nick looks like he needs the assurance, and Chris is only too happy to say the words if it makes Nick smile the way he does now, happily and sunnily, like Chris is the only thing in the world that matters.

Nick stands up and pulls Chris to his feet. He's a bit snuggly, clinging to Chris's waist and cuddling up, his head on Chris's shoulder. He's so big and solid and strong that it surprises Chris anew when Nick gets his moments of insecurity and self-doubt. Chris runs his hand down Nick's back, up and down, then slips his hand down Nick's boxers, squeezing one cheek, and nips at his tanned shoulder.

"Want to take a shower with me, Junior?"

Nick smiles at him, almost shyly, and nods. Chris turns the taps and worries about Lance, wondering how he can make Lance feel better, what he can do to help. Then, he's naked and skin to skin with an equally naked Nick, who's still a little clingy, and Chris thinks that Lance will have to take care of himself for a while, because Chris is going to be otherwise occupied.

After the shower and the sex, which Chris has some reservations about because he's too old to be getting his freak on in the bathtub, they tend to their morning routine. Chris enjoys their intimacy; there's something comforting about sharing a bathroom and shaving side by side in the mornings, Nick's electric shaver buzzing and drowning the scraping sound of Chris's Mach3. Chris flicks some shaving foam at Nick but the crazy boy threatens Chris's chest hair with his shaver and Chris stops misbehaving. Instead, Chris rinses his face, applies some after-shave, and gooses Nick on his way out. Nick jumps and drops the contact perched on the tip of his index finger, managing to save it in a magnificently lucky catch, and gives Chris a death glare. He's got nothing on Lance though, so Chris just shrugs, adjusting his glasses. He doesn't like Nick's switch from glasses to contacts, because Nick looks good, edible and sexy in glasses, but he won't say anything to Nick. It's more fun to keep teasing.

***

Lance lives in an apartment building overlooking a park, several blocks away from Chris's condo. His house is actually the last one in a row of apartment building clones, and Lance lucked out because only one side of his apartment faces another building; the other has a nice view of the park.

There are two girls who live in the apartment Lance's balcony faces. He's always thought they were roommates, like Nick and Justin, but right now, he's trying not to watch them make out, and he wonders idly if they've always been lovers and he's never noticed, or whether it's a recent development and he hadn't noticed because he'd been happily in love and oblivious. He sits on his balcony, a bottle of ale in hand, and tries to cleanse his brain of all thoughts; not that he's successful. He needs to get away, he knows. Yesterday was a really bad day for him, and maybe he and JC had lucked out by breaking up on a Friday morning, thus giving themselves only one day of hell before the weekend. And JC had called in sick on Friday, anyway.

Lance misses Joey. Joey is gone all the time, touring constantly, and Lance is happy for him because this is what Joey was born to do, what he loves to do, but that leaves Lance all alone and with no support system. Like now, when he's feeling fragile and raw, cut open, and aching for one of Joey's hugs, tight, solid and comforting. It's been so long since Joey's been around for more than 48 hours that Lance bitterly wonders if he still has a right to call Joey his best friend. He knows it's not Joey's fault. They'd drifted apart naturally, with Joey always gone and Lance dating JC and becoming half of a couple instead of 'just Lance.' Joey calls from time to time but it's not enough, nowhere near enough, and he misses Joey so much, particularly right now, that a sharp ache blooms across his chest. He yearns for the friendship of their college days, when they were so close they were almost joined at the hip, and people kept thinking they were a couple. And they were, just not like that. Now, Lance feels so out of touch that he thinks he doesn't even know Joey anymore, and that's a whole separate pain altogether.

Lance takes another swig and realizes his arm is wet. It started raining and he hadn't even noticed. The girls across the way have gone inside, and Lance can't even bring himself to smile at the t-shirt thrown haphazardly over the rail of their balcony. When the doorbell rings, Lance doesn't want to get up. It's Chris; of course it's Chris. Joey's not around, and the only other person who knows Lance well enough to comfort him after a break-up is Chris. And if Lance doesn't open the door, Chris will knock next door. 

And 'next door' is Joey's new place, which he got only a few weeks ago, but since he's never there due to touring, he's letting Justin and Nick sublet it from him. Justin will open the door to Chris, and Chris will be able to go onto Justin's balcony and climb over the low divider onto Lance's. So really, Lance has no choice but to open the door.

He stumbles a little on his trip across the apartment, not because he's drunk but because he hasn't had the motivation to clean, and the laundry basket is in the middle of the bedroom. Chris is wet from the rain, bearing enough booze for a small army.

"Hey. I just heard. And in the absence of Joey, I take it upon myself to get you drunk and otherwise help you in any way that I can."

Lance bats at him with his hand, ineffectively, unsure if he wants Chris to leave or just shut up. Chris ignores him and proceeds to the kitchen, where he mixes something blood-red-coloured for them both. Lance takes a sip and chokes. 

Chris has no way of knowing, of course, but last time that Lance and JC had kissed, last time they had made love or done anything boyfriendy together, a little over thirty-six hours ago, JC had tasted of raspberries from head to toe. Lance had teased him about it, raspberry chapstick and raspberry-guava body lotion, but JC had just said that it smelled nice and made his skin soft. Then JC'd stretched, naked and pliant on Lance's soft sheets, and Lance had pounced even though he hadn't had nearly enough recovery time. It hadn't mattered because JC was, as always, ready and naked and beautiful and just so— 

"Bass–"

"Hey, where's Nick?" Lance interrupts, because he's not sure he's ready to listen to Chris, "You just got back yesterday; shouldn't you be spending time with him?"

"Nick understands. You want to talk?"

Lance puts the drink down and clasps his hands together, tight, until the knuckles turn white and he doesn't want to slit his wrists. He's being melodramatic, of course, but something about the situation calls for tears and drama.

"No. Not yet. Chris, I'm not coming to work tomorrow. I'm taking some time off, maybe a month, maybe more. I need to get away, and I need to finish my thesis, and I need to do the former because of the latter; no distractions."

"Of course." Chris pats his shoulder. "You want a screwdriver? Or something undiluted?"

"Scotch. Or tequila. Or vodka. Actually, isopropanol works just as well."

"Ha-fucking-ha, Bass." Chris hands over a glass with something clear in it. "Here."

Lance wonders why Chris is giving him water until he takes a large swallow and realises it's pure vodka. He chokes, and tries to catch his breath while planning, uncharitably, Chris's untimely demise, and then he realises that he hadn't thought about JC for five minutes. So instead, he finds his breath, sits down, and picks up the glass again.

Lance is extremely grateful that Chris knows him so well because Chris, who is normally utterly incapable of standing still or being quiet for a second, is actually both, refilling Lance's glass when it's empty and providing only a minimum of a dialogue required for communication. He puts on a movie, something dumb but filled with senseless violence and lots of action. It takes Lance's mind off things that he shouldn't be processing at the moment, anyway. Lance drinks, half-watching the movie, and falls asleep with his head in Chris's lap, Chris rubbing his back gently. 

The next morning, Lance wakes up with a headache that doesn't have anything to do with a hangover. He ignores his throbbing head, gulps down two aspirins, and packs his computer and his thick stack of research materials. He takes a cab to the train station; a train ride home to Mississippi takes twice as long as the flight, and costs just about the same, but it's more convenient for a multitude of reasons. He doesn't want to stay in the city any longer than absolutely necessary, meaning he wants to have left yesterday. 

He goes home to write his thesis in peace. When his mother opens the door and sees him there, bags at his feet and looking freshly killed, she pulls him into his arms, cradling his head, holding him so tightly that his ribs itch with it. She knows something's wrong – he'd shown up unhappy and without warning – but she doesn't ask questions, though he can tell that she wants to. She just brings him fresh lemonade and iced tea, cooks his favourite meals, and kisses his forehead goodnight, as if he were five years old. He celebrates his birthday with his family, going out to a restaurant with his parents, his sister, and her husband for a quiet meal.

When he thinks he can face JC without bursting into tears, when thoughts of JC occur farther than two minutes apart and don't cause stabbing pain in his heart, Lance goes back. A month away, and it doesn't look like he's been gone; the humid June heat reminds him of Mississippi. His defense goes brilliantly, and he re-joins Chris's lab as a post-doctoral Fellow. He still wants to cry every time his eyes meet JC's because he sees the same empty sadness reflected in them that he glimpses every day in the mirror.

He doesn't know why they broke up. One day, they'd woken up in the same bed and somehow decided that they shouldn't do this anymore. Maybe it was the loss of personal space that had gotten to them. So many hours spent at work together, only to get home and spend more time together. Pretty much twenty-four-seven spent in each other's company, minus all the conferences and trips JC has to take. Lance doesn't regret JC, but he regrets getting involved with a co-worker. He has to go to work every day and face JC, to see his regrets and sadness reflected back at him. 

Lance doesn't even care why they broke up; he misses JC, and it's a constant nagging pain in his heart that he doesn't know how to make better; he thinks that maybe he's lost his chance. 

***

Chris talks to his mom twice a week, and spaces out the calls to his sisters so that he talks to one of them every other day. He calls his mom on weekend mornings and weekday evenings, when she's at home and his youngest sister is either in bed or watching cartoons, and they can talk freely without being interrupted. 

The first time Nick and Chris slept together, Chris called his mom after Nick had left and told her about a new boy in his life. He sheepishly told her about Nick's tattoos, then felt stupid for gushing like a girl, even though his tongue was still tingling from having licked every single one of Nick's numerous artworks the night before. There'd been nobody serious for some time, and his mom was concerned that Nick is so much younger, and without any same-sex experience at all, but also happy that her son was dating and maybe in love. He kept her updated when he and Nick started spending more time together, when Nick began spending nights. Though they spent Thanksgiving apart, Nick came over on Christmas Day to meet Chris's family. Mom approved.

When Chris and Nick got even closer, and Nick started spending nights with increasing frequency, Chris had to adjust his entire calling pattern because he felt too self-conscious talking to members of his family in front of Nick. In time, Chris got used to it, and Nick became such a regular fixture in Chris's house that he now picks up the phone and gets a cheerful "Hi Nick!" from the women in Chris's life who adore Nick and tell Chris so, very often.

This morning, while Nick is still asleep, Chris calls his mom and chats with her, telling her about his life and work, and the slow progress of his manuscript, and she tells him how she and Taylor are spending the entire week with all of Chris's nephews while their moms with husbands in tow take much-needed vacation. She says that it's a good thing she had Chris when she was so young because otherwise, she wouldn't have had the strength to look after such energetic grandkids.

Chris updates her on Nick, the taste of Nick's nipples – now pierced through with steel hoops – sparkling on his tongue, the visual alone making him choke with a wave of desire. He talks about a very complicated telomerase gene array protocol that Nick's finally optimised in the lab. Chris knows that his mom is reading between the lines, and knows what he's not saying: how much he loves Nick, how serious he is about him, and how maybe, just maybe, Nick might be the one. They chat some more, about the Lance-and-JC situation, and then she has to go because Taylor is finished with her cartoons and wants food. Chris hangs up and takes a deep happy breath.

Feeling romantic and slightly stupid, Chris decides to cook Nick breakfast, though he draws a line at serving it in bed. While Nick takes care of coffee and orange juice, Chris multitasks by the stove, cooking sausages, waiting for the omelets to be done, and making toast. When the bread pops up, Chris turns the heat off under the sausage pan, grabs the slices between his fingertips and carries them to the table, 'owowowow'ing along the way. Chris drops them carelessly onto the plates, and attempts to stick his fingers into his mouth. Because ow, that fucking hurt, and his fingertips are red and feel burnt, though they're probably not, just overheated and pulsing with it.

Nick tugs on one hand and sucks one finger at a time into his mouth. By the time he's done with the ring finger, breakfast is the last thing on Chris's mind. Nick still has his hand around Chris's wrist, so with some maneuvering, Chris has got Nick by the hand, and is tugging him off the chair, wrapping his free arm around Nick's waist and kissing the notch between his collarbones, tracing it with the pointed tip of his tongue.

Nick takes a deep breath, moaning as he lets it out, and offers weakly, "Chris, breakfast?"

Chris hums in response, wondering how long Nick will take to come if Chris blows him on the spot, but the stink of burning eggs tears him away.

"Fuck! Stupid eggs." Luckily, a layer that's burnt is stuck to the bottom, so Chris is able to salvage the rest of the omelet and divide the eggs between their plates. He supposes sex can wait.

Nick butters his toast, heaps eggs on top, and pours ketchup over it all, eyeing the plate critically, then adds a squirt of spicy mustard. Chris raises an eyebrow because ketchup and mustard are not the condiment combination he would have used, but then Nick bites into his sandwich, a look of bliss on his face not unlike the one he gets after Chris has kissed him, and Chris lets it go.

"Wohh umm?" Nick asks, mouth full as he extends his plate in Chris's direction.

"No, thanks. Those aren't my condiments of choice; I prefer relish."

Nick beams, then devours his breakfast in three huge bites. He washes it all down with orange juice, and reaches for another slice of toast and the sausages. Once the food is on his plate, he gets up to pop two more bread slices into the toaster. When Nick turns back to the table, he leans over Chris, warm and heavy against his back, and kisses Chris's cheek, arms around his neck.

"Thank you for breakfast," he breathes into Chris's ear, then kisses that, too.

Chris wonders if he should be worried that he's happy and content to be sitting there eating breakfast with Nick, despite the fact that sex got postponed.

***

Lance sleeps with Justin the day of the pig surgery. It happens quite accidentally and quite literally, since they're only sharing a bed and no sex takes place. But the day had been awful, and it only gets worse until it finally gets better by ending, and Lance has to work with JC despite the fact that Lance is nowhere near over JC, not even close, not even enough to ponder having a rebound fling, and it all sucks in the worst possible way.

It begins because Chris thinks that they should test their hypotheses on animals larger than rats, once the rat experiments are deemed successful. They order three pigs from a farm, and the surgery starts at 7am, when animals are delivered. Chris and JC are the only ones with medical degrees, and thus, the only ones allowed to operate. Lance is the only one trained on mapping equipment, so Justin and Nick are left to play assistants to the surgeons.

The first surgery goes well; the pig survives, the bleeding is minimal, and everyone involved is feeling well. During the second surgery, there are complications; the pig reacts poorly to anesthesia and quite abruptly winds up having a heart attack on the table. Mapping reveals substantial arterial blockage, and Chris makes a crack about hyper-cholestemic diet and atorvastatin while hooking the pig up to various machines around the ventilator, and Lance translates to Nick and a shaky Justin that by 'atorvastatin,' Chris means Lipitor, a cholesterol-lowering drug. Then, JC performs balloon angioplasty that doesn't help, and Chris tears an artery because the clamp Justin gives him is the wrong size.

The mapping computer spontaneously reboots in the middle of surgery, so JC and Chris have to go in blind to patch up the mess since they can't see what they're doing. They're elbow-deep in pig and covered in blood, Lance is cursing up a storm at the equipment, and Nick is barely holding it together because the rest of them aren't. Justin, mortified by his mistake, screws up even worse, handing over wrong tools at the wrong time. He very carefully avoids looking at the operating table but when he finally does, he drops everything and bolts from the surgical suite.

JC saves the pig and the day, and the look he gives Chris over the beeping heart monitor is so full of relief, pride, and happiness that it almost stops Lance's heart. He clenches his teeth and helps clean up and shut down, and reminds himself for the millionth time that he should've known better than getting involved with a co-worker; he's got grace and pride, he can handle behaving professionally.

Finally, the day is over, the third pig surgery having gone without a glitch, and they all go to The Barstool because they all need a drink rather desperately. Joey got back into town early in the morning, in the middle of yet another tour, and he meets them at the bar, loud and merry, telling stories of the road and touching JC every chance he gets. Lance tries to ignore it, not pay any attention or at least, persuade himself that it's nothing, except that he's known Joey for a very long time. What he knows and others might not is that Joey is bi, even though he prefers women. He knows he should know that Joey wouldn't, that he's still Joey's friend though maybe not best friend anymore; Joey wouldn't ever do that to him. Lance is ashamed to admit, though, that he doesn't know any more, and that maybe, they're at that phase of distant friendship when it's okay for one friend to sleep with another's ex.

There's still touching, and JC is leaning into Joey's touches and returning them, palms resting on Joey's broad back or curling around Joey's arm. Lance buys drink after drink, beer at first, hard liquor after. By the time JC and Joey leave, Joey's arm around JC's shoulders and JC's around Joey's waist, Lance is feeling no pain. He is lucky to be able to digest alcohol differently from others; in many cases, he'll have too much to drink and still be all right. Right now he's mostly okay; he shouldn't be driving, walking is a chore, and his brain is sluggish and not wanting to think, but he's in no danger of throwing up or passing out spontaneously. He should probably call it a night, though.

Chris delegates the duty of getting Lance home to Justin, because Justin's going that way already; he just has to do it earlier and with different company than he otherwise would've liked. They take a cab back to the building, and Justin helps Lance out of the car, up the stairs, into the elevator and to his door.

While Justin tries to get the keys out of Lance's pocket, he feels up Lance quite a bit, which Lance mistakes for invitation and grabs Justin's hand, keeping it pressed to his crotch. Justin makes a choked sound, switches keys to a different hand, and manages to get the door unlocked without any incident. Then, Lance is dragged inside and dropped, not at all gently, onto his bed. He does, of course, manage to get tangled up in a knot of legs, so Lance winds up on his back with Justin sprawled across him, grunting as they collide.

Lance doesn't really remember much of what happens next, but in the morning he wakes up snuggled up in Justin's arms, both of them under the covers and wearing only their underwear. Lance rolls over and out of Justin's embrace, thinking yet again how lucky he is that he doesn't get hangovers and is capable of coherently functioning after a night of heavy drinking. He glares at Justin; he sincerely doubts anything had happened because he knows that his libido still couldn't have overcome his intoxication, and also, because Justin is straight. At least, Lance is pretty sure he is. And Lance is not JC; he can't turn straight boys bi-curious and willing on the spot.

Thoughts of JC bring back the memories of the night before, and Lance throws his arm over his eyes, trying not to think of JC leaving with Joey, of what might or not have happened. At the same time, he's playing a twisted and complex version of musical chairs with apartments, and trying to figure out who went where last night.

Joey's apartment is a spacious two-bedroom with a central dining room that was turned into a living room and a living room off to the side, which Nick, Joey, and Justin converted into a guest bedroom. When Joey is in town, he crashes there; otherwise, it works as a spare for the times Justin's mom or Nick's brother come for a visit. 

If Nick and Chris went to Chris's, then Joey and JC might've gone to Joey's, and Lance is running a high risk of bumping into JC, looking freshly laid, right outside the front door. Lance twitches at the thought, and the jolt wakes up Justin, who slowly opens his eyes, smiling and stretching as he does, back popping.

"Hi," he murmurs, looking at Lance from under his long lashes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Lance mutters, throwing back the covers and scrambling out of bed.

Justin's words stop him. "Is that how you always are the morning after?"

"The morning after what?" Lance snaps back, because the idea of almost having had his rebound with token straight-boy Timberlake is making him nauseated. He can't blame the alcohol or the drinking, but Lance definitely feels like throwing up.

When Lance is ready to face the day, he gets dressed, and he and Justin leave the apartment, Lance going to work, Justin going next door back to his place. They don't see anyone they know, and Lance doesn't know if that makes him thankful or sad.

***

Chris walks into the lab and stops in the doorway, bemused. Nick had shaved his head the night before, leaving only half an inch of soft stubble in its place. Chris, who'd been initially opposed to the idea, loves it now because Nick looks sexy as fuck in a 'barely-legal and just out of prison' kind of way. It's all sorts of fucked up and twisted, but Chris doesn't care. The buzz cut adds a certain something to Nick's tattoos and piercings, and Chris mightily approves.

Apparently, he's not the only one who likes Nick's new look. Nick is sitting at his bench, wearing a lab-coat as he should, concentrating on aliquoting something from a small conical tube into about thirty or forty microcentrifuge tubes, and squinting slightly. Justin is standing behind Nick's chair, looking at the protocol Nick's working from, one hand on the bench and the other on Nick's head. Justin's palm is moving slowly, lazily rubbing at Nick's stubble, fingers flexing now and then. The look on Justin's face is somewhere between Zen and nirvana, and doesn't have anything to do with science. Nick doesn't look like he's even aware that Justin's touching him, and Chris thinks with bemusement that for a straight guy Justin sure is touchy with his male co-workers.

"Am I interrupting?" Chris says loudly, when he realizes that neither Justin nor Nick is aware of his presence.

Justin's head whips around, and he sheepishly takes his hand off Nick's head, wiping it against his thigh and then hiding it behind his back. Chris fights a smile.

"Hey Chris," Justin says awkwardly. Nick doesn't even lift his head, just grunts absently as he pipettes the liquid into the tubes. He's probably counting in his head, unwilling to lose his spot in a long row of small tubes.

"What are you guys working on?" Chris asks Justin, because he doesn't want to distract Nick.

"Nick was showing me the procedure for RNA extraction from tissues, and we're on the DNase step." 

Chris nods. Usually, Nick is responsible for RNA and PCR experiments, but his plate is getting too full. Thus, he's teaching Justin more procedures so Justin can take over some of the experiments. 

As Chris heads out the door, he throws carelessly over his shoulder, "Oh and Justin? I'm sorry but you can't have my boyfriend." He laughs when he hears Justin sputter.

Later in the day, Chris leaves his office to look for Nick and give him the instructions for several experiments. He walks into the room to find Justin fiddling with something on the bench and swearing a blue streak.

"What's wrong with you?"

Justin throws his hands up in frustration. "JC. He asks me to run this experiment for him, right? Says it's almost like a Western and all I gotta do is just run the gel."

Chris raises an eyebrow, "I fail to see the problem here, J."

"He didn't tell me I'd have to cast the gel myself!" Justin gripes. "And I've been trying for the past forty minutes and the fu-damn thing keeps leaking!"

"Ah. Let me see." Chris snags a pair of gloves from the box and pulls them on. Upon looking over the apparatus, critically he quickly finds the problem.

"J, look here," Chris says as he tilts the plates horizontally. "See the spacers here?" Chris points at the thin strips of plastic between the glass plates. "When you secure the plates in the sandwich clamps, the spacers need to be exactly even with the edge of the glass. You don't want any space between the clamp, the spacer, and the glass; that's why it leaks." 

Chris undoes the screws and quickly disassembles everything. "Bring me two new plates," he tells Justin while rummaging in the drawer for a new set of spacers and a comb. Justin brings over the plates and paper towels, and Chris watches as he washes the glass with methanol.

"Okay. Now place the spacers at the edge of the larger plate, and put the smaller one on top, and align them at the bottom. Here," Chris hands Justin a piece of thin cardboard, slightly smaller than a sheet of paper. "If you get the plates vertical, you can slide this between them. Good, now align everything. See? This is an alignment card. It makes the spacers fit perfectly."

Justin inserts the plates into first one clamp, then the other, and Chris checks that everything is as it should be. 

"Let me know if it leaks when you cast the gel." Chris removes the gloves and throws them into the trash on his way out. 

At the end of the day, Chris goes looking for Nick yet again, this time to take him home. He finds him in the animal room, looking at something. Chris wraps his arms around Nick's waist from behind, and rests his forehead between Nick's shoulder blades, loving the feel of boy-warmed soft cotton cushioning his face.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Nicky?"

"Our lab is so gay."

"You mean 'stupid'," Chris corrects absent-mindedly, because after years of telling kids that 'gay' doesn't mean 'stupid' and shouldn't ever be used in that context, it's almost second nature to Chris.

"No. I mean gay. Look." 

Chris peers from behind Nick's back to look in the direction Nick's pointing and sees that Justin's doing to JC what he'd been doing to Nick in the morning. JC is bent over whichever surgery or dissection he's working on, and Justin is looking on, hand buried in JC's short hair. JC seems oblivious, but Justin looks like he's paying more attention to JC's hair than the surgery. 

Chris chuckles, "What's up with him? That's the second time today. And while I admit that your newly shorn head is rub-worthy, JC doesn't even have the fun curls anymore." Monday after JC and Lance had broken up, JC had shown up with super-short hair styled into a mini-mohawk. He'd been maintaining the haircut ever since. 

Nick grunts then says, "He ... we talked today, in the morning. Before the head-rubbing. I think maybe he's feeling weird working with four queers in the lab? Like, maybe he should explore, or at least be curious about, other options? He asked about me, since I used to be into girls and all. It was a good chat, I think. He is confused but questioning, so it's a good start."

Chris turns around so that he's facing Nick and asks, "What brought this on, do you know?"

Nick bites his lip, deliberating, and having decided takes a deep breath, "He slept with Lance last night. Like, nothing happened and all, but I guess they woke up in a 'compromising position'," Nick smiles as he uses Chris's finger quotes, "and it shook him up, you know? So, he's asking questions and wanting to know, or get in touch with his boy-loving side or whatever. Or maybe he just wants to be the best fag-hag he can be." Nick beams at Chris happily.

"Home?" Chris asks, for lack of anything to respond with. Justin is still more of an employee than a friend; Chris shouldn't interfere.

"Yes. And food. I'm hungry!"

***

Lance is having a deja-vu. He's on the balcony drinking beer and moping when he hears a doorbell. He goes to open the door and Chris is on the other side holding a cardboard box filled with bottles of alcohol. Chris grunts a greeting and walks into the kitchen to start mixing something definitely not in any bartender's guide to drinks. They shoot the breeze and talk about nothing until they run out of bullshit to talk about. By then, it's okay to discuss the shit the matters. That is to say, boys in their life. Or lack thereof, in Lance's case.

It all starts when Chris declares that it's been a long time and Lance should stop mourning already and move on. Lance initially snaps back at him but a few gulps later, he mellows out and gets nostalgic and sentimental about all things JC. He's in sharing mood and says he regrets having barely had six months with JC because he looks at Nick and Chris, juggling careers and workplace romance perfectly, and feels envious. They're going to celebrate their one-year anniversary soon, and they're so happy with each other. 

What Lance doesn't say is that he knows, though Chris might not have realised this yet, that Chris wants to settle down, that he's ready to pop the question and move to Massachusetts, except that he doesn't want to leave Nick without any choices. Chris is Nick's first everything where boys-in-a-sexy-way are concerned. At one point, quite drunkenly, Chris wonders that maybe he should give Nick some leeway, a chance to explore other opportunities, to find out if Chris is really what he wants. 

Lance says, "Chris. That is a really bad idea. On so many levels."

Chris looks confused, and Lance explains, " _Sports Night_ , which you made me watch, so you better remember this. There was an episode in which Casey and Dana finally decide to try dating, but she says that because he hadn't dated much and got married very young, he's got no dating experience. So Dana forces him to spend six months dating other girls. Except that Casey meets a girl he likes, and realises that it won't ever work out with Dana. And when Dana discusses the situation with Natalie, she realises that she forced Casey to doubt his manhood, and made him feel less than a man and a human being and stuff."

Chris says, "So you're saying that if I break up with Nick so that he could have more same-sex encounters, that would be me saying that he's not good enough for me as is, and I want him back more used and experienced?"

Lance nods emphatically, "Yes. So don't do it." Lance has intercepted worried looks Chris sometimes gives Nick when Nick's not looking, and the adoring love-sick stares that Nick sends back. Lance knows that Nick doesn't even look at other guys and not because he's that faithful or loyal; Lance had caught him eyeing girls before, not speculatively, just looking, because Nick's in a relationship, but he's not blind. So, he looks at girls, but not the boys, because he's still mostly straight, but it's Chris who holds his heart. He doesn't look like he's going to leave if something prettier and more female comes along.

Chris is slowly sipping on a beer and Lance tells him sternly, "Look. You can't break up with Nick just because you think he'll ultimately leave you. If you don't take a chance, blah blah. So grow a pair and stop being an idiot." What he doesn't say is that Chris and Nick's relationship is his anchor right now. If they break up, he's going to kill them both for it.

Chris looks thoughtful, sticks his tongue into the bottle's neck, presumably to catch the last few drops, then says, "Right. You're right." They're silent after that.

They drink some more, until they're drunk enough to rehash all the small-talk they'd already covered in part one, and Lance drowns in his thoughts of Chris and Nick again. Sometime soon, Chris will get over his insecurities and realize how much Nick loves him, that he's everything to Nick, and that Nick is so much happier with Chris than without, and the Chris probably will pop the question, and he and Nick will go to Massachusetts to look for houses together, and Lance will find himself out of work.

***

Chris's day begins normally. Nick doesn't stay the night, so Chris sleeps until 6am then goes for his morning run. He comes into work, kisses his boyfriend, who is half-asleep over his morning coffee, and goes into his office to plan experiments for the techs and figure out how to incorporate JC's and Lance's experimental data into a lecture he's supposed to give to fourth-year medical students in a few weeks, when the new school year begins.

The phone rings somewhere in the lab and is picked up after three rings, but Chris is only vaguely aware of outside interferences because he's engrossed in an online game of PacMan.

Nick catches him just outside his door as Chris is about to grab a soda in the lunch room, cheeks flushed and eyes shiny, and says his mom called. She's coming for a visit soon and wants Nick to play tour-guide the day after her arrival, which, incidentally, happens to be Nick and Chris's one-year anniversary. With a watery smile, Nick says that he'd managed to come up with an excuse to do it a few days later, so that his anniversary time with Chris will be uninterrupted, and in that moment, Chris realises that Jane still has no idea that Nick has been in a committed relationship for a year, and not only that, but that he is seeing a man. An older man at that. A man who happens to be Nick's boss, as a cherry on top.

"Why haven't you told your mother we're dating?" Chris tries to keep his voice level and calm but it's hard to do. He's rightfully upset over the fact that his lover has yet to tell his parents about him. For a moment, Chris feels like a dirty little secret; he has no doubts that Nick loves him with all his heart, but it still hurts that Nick hadn't told his parents, especially after a _year._

"Chris, she wouldn't understand!"

"Which part? That I'm older? That I'm your boss? Or that I'm a guy? Because honestly, you're of age, and even our homosexual relationship is not illegal in this state. But most importantly, I don't understand why you value her opinion and want her approval now, when you've flaunted and rejected it your entire life. You went all the way across the continent to escape her when you left for college! Why does she matter now?"

Chris sees Dani creeping out of the office, notebooks and planners clutched to her chest, cordless phone in hand. She quickly walks down the hall and disappears. He doesn't blame her; nobody should have to hear a lovers' quarrel. He wonders where the others are, and thinks they're probably safely on the other side of the lab.

Things very quickly spin out of control on a downward spiral. Nick is upset and close to tears, and the more upset he gets, the more his voice rises. Chris, seeing him so upset, loses his cool as well, and their voices soar until they're screaming at each other in the hallway outside Chris's office. For a moment Chris notices in a detached kind of way how beautifully their voices entwine; save for the contents, the argument sounds almost like music.

And then Chris snaps, "God, Nick! _Lance_ had told his parents about me during the first week, even though we'd only been fucking! Thanks so much for showing that you care about this relationship!"

Silence. Chris bites his lip because he hadn't meant to say that, not at all, because even though it's the truth, and even though Nick knows about it, the 'Lance situation' hadn't been Chris's finest moment. He and Lance had agreed not to publicize the relationship. Now, everyone's heard what Chris said, and Lance won't be happy. 

Nick turns and leaves. Chris hopes he goes home; Nick looked so wiped and tired, and the argument adds even more stress. Chris goes back into his office and sprawls in the desk chair. He sits there for all of thirty seconds before he realises that the main reason why Nick won't ever tell his mother he's gay is Aaron; Nick's mother is just insane enough to forbid her 'gay pervert' of an elder son to see the other kids, Aaron included. Nick wouldn't survive that; Aaron's the centre of his world. Chris considers pounding his head against the wall and is actually doing it when Lance walks in.

Lance puts a hand on the back of Chris's head, fingers grabbing hair and not letting Chris's forehead come in contact with the wall again.

"Chris--" He starts, his voice heavy with something like sorrow.

"Yeah, I know." Yes, he messed up. He messed up badly and he should've realised the truth sooner and handled the situation better. Much better.

"Can I help with anything?" Lance turns Chris's chair around and peers at his forehead, to make sure no permanent damage has been done.

"No." Chris brushes Lance's hands away and stands up. "I'll fix it."

"Chris—"

Chris gives Lance a small, sad smile and impulsively smacks a kiss on his cheek. "It'll be fine. We'll both apologise; I'll get to the bottom of the mother-in-law situation. I'll fix it. Okay?"

Lance says quietly, "Yeah."

After trying to get some work done for two hours and not succeeding at all due to lack of a single coherent thought in his head, Chris gives up. He shuts off his computer and tells Dani that he's gone for the day. The others should know what to do but if they don't, they should just leave it till tomorrow and not call him at home. Dani nods and refuses to look at him.

He wants to go directly to Nick's, but at the last moment, decides to go home first to change out of his suit. He heads straight to his bedroom, exchanging the suit for a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, and on the way to the kitchen, sees something in his peripheral vision.

Chris turns around, and Nick is sitting in the corner of the living-room sofa, legs pulled up and his arms around his shins. He looks child-like and small, despite being neither of those, and very sad. The room is dim because wide, leaf-covered branches block most of natural light that would reach the room through the windows, and Nick hasn't put on lights. Chris wonders if he's been sitting there ever since he left the lab.

Chris pulls up his sleeves, and slowly approaches the couch. Nick doesn't seem to have noticed him. Chris sits down and puts a tentative hand on Nick's arm. Nick takes a sharp breath and says, "I love you."

Chris slides his hand until he's got his arm around Nick's shoulders, pulling him gently toward his chest.

"I know, babe. I don't doubt it for a second. And I love you too; you know I do."

Nick wraps his arms around Chris's waist and squeezes. Chris says, "I know why you haven't told your mother yet. Aaron, right? And I'm sorry I was a moron, and it took me so long to get there myself, but why the hell didn't you tell me? I'm slow about these things, you know that."

Nick sits up, and he's blushing. "I didn't want to make it sound like he's more important to me than you are. You're my world. You both are."

Chris says seriously, "Aaron is more important; at least until he's 18. No offense, but your mother is truly insane, Nicky." He waits a moment then says, "And hey, I'm sorry for overreacting."

Nick smiles, "Well, yeah. And thank you for understanding." He bites his lip and looks down, "I'm sorry, too. I should've explained."

Chris nods, "So, we're good?"

Nick wraps himself around Chris, sliding into his lap. "Yes. I say we have some make-up sex now."

Chris pulls Nick closer, feeling heat against his own body through two layers of denim, and slides his hands to grab Nick's ass.

"I'm sorry for bringing up Lance. It was a shitty thing to do, comparing what you and I have with the fling I had years ago."

Nick cocks his head to one side and says, "Lance. Lance, Lance. You know, fuck Lance. Wait, was he better than me?"

Chris smiles, "Didn't we cover this already?"

Nick says seriously, "We covered the fling, not the sex."

Chris nods thoughtfully, "This sounds cheesy, but sex is always better with the person you love who loves you in return."

Nick rolls his eyes and makes a face, "Translation: he was fucking fantastic, but I still win."

And Chris says, "Exactly," and tilts them onto the couch. Nick greedily reaches for Chris's clothes, hands groping everywhere and Chris laughs, tilts his head, and kisses his boyfriend breathless.

***

It's the Friday before Columbus Day, and Lance is sitting by his bench, pipette in hand, staring off into nothing. From time to time, every ten seconds or so, he comes to and stares, confused, at the tubes in front of him and the box of pipette tips, then goes back to daydreaming. He doesn't answer the first few times someone calls his name; when he finally does, he turns to see a familiar face – and an ID of the Environmental Health & Safety inspector displayed at eye-level.

"Hey Lance," the guy says politely.

"Hello." Lance hadn't spoken since last night and his voice is hoarse. He has to clear his throat and try again. "Hi."

He remembers last year, the inspection during which Lance had to rush out to find JC and save them all a hefty fine. This year, he doesn't have to. This inspector, whose name is Adrian, is dating one of Chris's sisters and always calls two days in advance to warn of his arrival. When Lance saw JC in the morning, JC was wearing black cargos, black boots, and a black long-sleeved t-shirt with a blood-red appliqué on the front. He looked the way Lance felt, all dark and gloomy, with a nagging anticipation of impending doom.

Adrian wordlessly hands over the signed inspection notice, and Lance points to the bench; he's wearing gloves and doesn't want to touch paper. Adrian nods at him and leaves, and Lance is free to go back to staring, except that the moment had passed. He pushes back thoughts of JC's pale-golden skin and the way it glistened with sweat in candlelight when they would make love. He resolutely doesn't think of JC's curls, nonexistent now that he'd chopped off his hair. He doesn't think of JC at all. 

Except that he has to, because when Lance feels someone's hand rest lightly on his shoulder, the hand belongs to JC.

"Hey man."

Lance smiles weakly in response.

"Listen," JC starts, and he looks nervous, not like himself at all. Lance can't even begin to think what this might be about; JC is never nervous.

"I thought that maybe... and then, like... perhaps, you know, man?" Lance has to smile at JC's incoherency, and savagely suppresses memories of JC's incoherence when he would lie in bed, post-coital and languid, trying to talk.

Lance ducks his head to hide a smile, then looks up at JC's slightly blushing face.

"Yeah?"

"Have-dinner-with-me-tomorrow-night?" JC says in a rush, while Lance blinks and separates the words, inserting spaces to make sense.

"Have dinner with you?" Lance asks slowly. It's the wrong thing to say, because JC takes a step back, shaking his head.

"No-no, forget it, man. I shouldn't've asked. It's stupid, it's nothing; forget it."

He keeps backing away, so Lance drops the pipette and strips off his gloves, standing up and taking three big steps to JC, catching JC's hands in his. Lance runs his thumbs over JC's knuckles, out of habit, and JC's fingers curl at the caress.

"JC, I'd love to have dinner with you tomorrow night," Lance says warmly, looking up into JC's eyes. He feels stupid, like he'd just stepped out of a cheesy romance novel, but his heart is beating faster because the prettiest boy in the world had just asked him out, and it doesn't matter that Lance used to date this boy for over six months. Lance misses him like crazy, and a dinner date sounds almost as good as "second chance."

"Oh," JC breathes out. "Good." He backs up slowly, trying to leave the lab with Lance still attached to his hands. With a sad little smile, he slides his hands out of Lance's grasp, and turns around. He keeps looking over his shoulder at Lance until he's out the door and so far down the hall that he can't see Lance any more.

As soon as JC is out of sight, Lance strides out of the lab and heads to Chris's office. He beams at Dani when she tries to stop him from coming in, and doesn't knock, just turns the knob and enters. He realises that he should've listened to Dani when he sees Chris and Nick making out against the wall and somehow, it looks more shocking than porn. Lance stares at his shoes and clears his throat.

The kissing sounds cease, and Lance dares lift his head. Chris and Nick both sport flushed faces, swollen mouths glistening with saliva, and cheeks and chins rubbed red by beard burn. Chris wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, the one that hasn't been in Nick's pants, and stares at Lance.

Lance stares back, then drops his gaze and says softly, "JC asked me out to dinner."

Nick starts laughing, and Lance and Chris turn their gazes to him, Chris's soft, amused, and affectionate, and Lance's hurt and glaring.

Nick's laughter tapers off into sparse giggles, and he says, "Lance. You're a teenaged girl. A pretty boy you've been crushing on has finally asked you out. What's next? The prom?"

"I don't know," Lance snipes back, "I've been out of school for a while, but you might still remember." 

Chris turns to Nick, "Could you give us some privacy, please?"

Nick does as asked, and Chris locks the door behind him. He sits down in a chair, while Lance sits on the desk.

"So. He asked you to dinner, huh?"

"Yup." Lance can't contain a beaming smile.

"Whatcha gonna wear?"

Lance snorts, "Chris. I'm not, in fact, a teenaged girl."

"I know, dude. I just... I don't want to ask questions you aren't ready to answer."

They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Lance looks up and blurts out, "Tomorrow is our one-year-anniversary-that-never-was."

"You mean, had you not broken up, it would've been?"

Lance nods. "Which is why I'm so happy but not, you know? Like, does he know, does he remember, does he care? Was there something more behind his invitation?"

"Lance, man. You worry too much. Wear something pretty tomorrow, test out the feel of the date, and take it where it can be taken. JC's no good with secrets; if he meant something by asking you out on your pseudo-anniversary, you'll know about it soon enough."

Lance says, avoiding Chris's eyes, "It's just that... It's been six months. We've been apart for as long as we'd been together. And this date... if it's a fluke, if it's just a tease... It's been so... hard, trying to pretend that everything is fine, that I'm fine, that this doesn't hurt like fuck and that I don't miss him every goddamn second. I see him and I want... so many things." Lance stops to swallow, because he refuses to let his voice break in the next sentence he speaks.

He hears Chris get up, and then, strong arms surround him, Chris pulling him in a tight hug and guiding his head to Chris's shoulder.

"C'mon, kiddo, everything will be all right. I'm not just saying it, you know that." Chris rubs circles on Lance's back and Lance puts his arms around Chris's waist.

"You smell different," he comments after a moment.

Chris lets go and takes a step back. "What do you mean?" He asks with a smile.

"You don't smell the way you used to."

Chris shrugs. "I changed my cologne." He rubs his neck with his left hand, and then says sheepishly, "And my aftershave. And my shampoo."

Lance nods slowly. "You smell good."

Chris cuffs him lightly on the back of his head. "Get out of here, Bass. Go finish my experiments and then go home to get ready for your date tomorrow."

At the end of the day, Lance goes home giddy and, for the first time in six months, doesn't indulge in self-pity about being home alone on a Friday night. Instead, he takes a scalding shower, scrubbing his hair of styling products and his skin of sweat and dust of the city, and then, thinks about JC, hand hot and tight on his dick. He loses his balance when comes and stumbles into wall, come splattering the tiles. When his heart rate and breathing start slowing down, Lance rubs at the wall with his palm, until there are no more white streaks on the pale-green tiles.

Lance is nervous and excited about Saturday night, and finds himself restless, at a loss as to how to pass the time. He doesn't want to go out, but has no idea what to do if he stays in. After the shower, he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and an old college t-shirt, and has dinner in front of the TV. He prefers Reba singing, not acting, so he winds up channel-surfing for fifteen minutes before giving up, throwing the remote on the coffee table in frustration.

Having exhausted his options, and bored himself almost to tears, Lance finally gives up, swaps the sweatpants for a pair of old, faded jeans, and goes to knock on Justin's door. He stands there, feeling like a fool, for a few minutes, knocking from time to time and staring at the door that remains closed, then walks back to his place. It's Friday night; of course Justin's out. He thinks of calling Chris, but then changes his mind; Nick's probably there, and it doesn't seem like a good idea to distract them, again.

Finally, Lance gives up, and goes into his bedroom, where he puts on his favourite porn video and masturbates into exhaustion. After that, he falls asleep. At 10:30pm on a Friday night. At 8:30 the next morning, the phone wakes him up, and though he'd been sleeping for 10 hours, he doesn't feel rested at all. He grumbles at the phone and the caller.

It's JC. Lance's palms start sweating as soon as he hears a familiar, "Um... hi? It's me. Uh. It's JC, I mean," on the other end of the line. He briefly toys with the idea of jerking off while JC speaks but discards the notion as unfit for a situation like this.

"Hey JC," he says, trying to sound warm and welcoming despite the fact that he's just woken up and his voice still feels scratchy and unused.

"Hi. I woke you up, didn't I? I'm sorry, cat, I totally wasn't paying attention to the time, let me call you back later, okay? I'm rea—"

"JC. I'm awake now; don't hang up. How are you?"

"Oh. Um... well, sorry for waking you, anyway. I'm good. Listen... about tonight." There's a bit of dead air on the line, and Lance hears JC swallowing. "I'm afraid I have to cancel."

Those are the worst words Lance has ever heard. He almost gives in the childish urge to drop the phone and throw himself down to beat his fists against the floor and wail 'Nooooooooooooooooooo.' Instead, he grips the phone tighter, swallows a couple of times, and rubs at the small of his back, where sweat had popped up and started rolling down.

"JC, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

"Um. Yeah, actually. This gas-guzzling behemoth of an SUV rolled down the hill and hit my car, and ok, mine wasn't the only car the monster hit, but it was the smallest, and the first one, so it got squished between the SUV and about five other cars that got hit and squished, and now, Elsie is in the shop, and I can't pick you up tonight so we'll have to cancel and I'm really sorry about that, but there's nothing I can do."

Lance listens to JC talk, his voice rising with escalating frustration, no evident pauses between sentences. When JC finally stops to take a breath, Lance inhales deeply and thinks. This isn't a big problem. In fact, it's not a problem at all. Unlike JC, whose apartment building has street parking, Lance's building has an underground garage, where cars are in no immediate danger of rolling. And Lance's car is quite fit at the moment.

"No, JC. We don't have to cancel. I know this isn't traditional but I have a car; I can pick you up. You can even drive, if you want."

JC is silent on the other end of the line for a moment, then says, "Okay. Wear a suit, all right? And be here at six."

When Lance hangs up, he's smiling. He feels restless and full of energy, so he cleans up the apartment, corner to corner, even though it's not that dirty to begin with. He does the laundry, changing sheets and towels, washing every towel and sheet he has, even the clean ones; what if after dinner, he and JC go back to Lance's place? Lance is doubtful but holding onto hope. He dusts, vacuums the living room rug, and Swiffers the hardwood floors in the rest of the apartment. He shakes out the little 'welcome' mat on the balcony, and scrubs the tiles in the bathroom.

He considers ironing the dress shirts he'd just washed then thinks that maybe that's too gay, and he should use the dry-cleaning service instead. He goes through his closet, setting aside everything that needs dry-cleaning – slacks, two of his suits, a few shirts – then drives over to a little dry-cleaning place he always uses. The little old lady that manages the place calls him 'Mister Lance' and always offers him caramels.

By the time he gets back and realises that everything is done, it's still only 1pm. Lance gives up looking for things to do, sets his alarm clock for 4:30pm, and settles down for a nap.

At 5 o'clock, still dripping from the shower and with a towel wrapped around his waist, Lance waits for his hair to reach the 'slightly damp' stage so that he could style it and peruses his closet. He'd unthinkingly taken his favourite suit to be cleaned, and he's not sure if his second-favourite will do. In the end, he doesn't have a choice, and chooses a dove-grey shirt to go with the charcoal suit and the silver-grey tie. Then, he thinks he looks too dreary, grey from head to toe, and changes the shirt to white. Then, he realises he looks too festive and ready for a wedding or a graduation, and wants to wear a different suit, but he really likes the tie. His mom had given it to him recently, and JC hadn't seen Lance wear it. 

Lance settles on the white shirt, and goes back to the bathroom to style his hair into his favourite 'freshly fucked and ready for more' look, the one that also doubles as 'please fuck me now' look and 'c'mon, what are you waiting for?' look. He hopes JC will fall for at least one of them.

When Lance turns onto JC's street, he calls him to let JC know he's there, so when he pulls up at JC's house, at 6pm on the dot, JC is just coming down the stairs. Lance leaves the keys in the ignition, and gets out of the car. After all, he did promise JC he could drive. He and JC meet in front of the hood, and JC smiles at Lance prettily and leans down to kiss his cheek softly.

"Hi," he whispers. Lance whispers it back. JC gives him a once-over that Lance promises himself to interpret later, and says, "I love your tie." He smoothes his index finger from the little dimple below the knot down Lance's chest, and Lance gulps.

"You look fantastic," Lance tells him in return, and JC does. He's wearing a dark-grey suit with a pale pink shirt, very JC, and a dark tie that Lance can't see too clearly in the dark, but thinks it has swirls on it.

"Let's go, cat, we've got a reservation." 

They get in the car and JC drives one-handed, his right hand resting on gear shift even though Lance's car is an automatic. JC had taken to wearing a silver ring on his right-hand middle finger. Lance, staring at the ring, wonders if it's a hint, if JC wants him to take his hand, or if JC's just more comfortable driving like that, and Lance will be too forward if he does any hand-molesting. In the end, he shifts closer to JC and just watches him drive, staring unabashedly even when JC looks sideways and catches him looking. Lance just smiles at him, and JC's eyes twinkle in return.

It's amazing that after such a great start, the date is one of the worst they've ever had, one of the worst Lance had ever had. They quickly run out of things to talk about; they spend eight to ten hours at work together, working on several common projects and talking about those they do individually in meetings and at lunch. Thus, the work side of their lives is covered. Lance isn't sure they should be talking about their personal lives (or lack thereof, in his case). He wants to ask about Joey, and he's afraid of what JC might tell him. He knows he can always ask Joey, but somehow, that idea is always chased away before it can take root and blossom. He thinks it's because deep down, he knows he should know better; that Joey wouldn't fool around with someone Lance is clearly still pining after. And yet, Lance still has doubts, so he doesn't ask. 

There are many silences at the table, the heavy uncomfortable kind, and when JC declines dessert, Lance thinks it's a really bad sign. He declines coffee because JC doesn't look like he wants dinner to drag any longer than necessary, and JC, after a moment's hesitation, declines it as well.

After a momentary argument, JC gets the check, insisting that since he invited Lance, he should be paying. It's funny, Lance thinks watching JC sign the credit card slip, that after a half-year relationship, during which they never had trouble communicating, now they've run out of things to talk about. Lance wonders if it's a sign that they shouldn't try again, that they're really over, then sweeps that thought aside, because he's happier having a bad dinner date than being without JC.

JC drives them back to his house, parking at the curb, and they get out to switch drivers. They meet, again, by the hood, and JC leans down, again, to kiss Lance's cheek, only Lance turns at the last moment, and JC's lips land on Lance's mouth. There's a second of startled inaction, then the softest of kisses, and then JC says, "Come in for coffee?"

"Yes," Lance breathes against his lips, then forces himself to pull away and turn off the car, locking it and pocketing the keys. He makes sure his car is okay to stay parked where it is, then follows JC inside.

Lance doesn't know if JC meant 'coffee' literally, but it winds up being a euphemism for what they're doing now in the hallway, hands greedily grabbing at jackets and ties, frantically stripping each other. The jackets land on the floor by the entrance, and ties follow them. Shirts prove to be tricky, what with all the buttons. Lance tackles JC's while he toes off his loafers, happy he'd worn them instead of dress shoes with laces, then manages to remove his socks with the toes of the opposite foot. JC leans into him, hopping on one foot at a time to tear at his laces and remove his shoes. Lance's shirt remains buttoned; JC needs one hand to hold onto Lance and the other to tug his shoes and socks off. 

Lance is doing his best to distract JC, one arm around his waist, licking into his mouth and sucking on his tongue, thanking everything under the sun for JC not liking belts, because he can skim his free hand down JC's chest to undo the button and zipper and worm his hand inside, teasing JC through the thin, warm cotton of his underwear.

JC moans and forgets about his shoe, left dangling on his still-raised foot, and leans in closer, plastering himself over Lance as if he wants to melt into him, then groping at Lance's shirt, trying to undo the buttons and getting only three of them. Lance laughs into the kiss, moves his arm from JC's waist down and into JC's pants, and JC wiggles, abandoning his fruitless attempts to get Lance's shirt undone. He shakes his foot to dislodge the shoe and backs up, dragging Lance with him. They're nowhere near JC's bedroom and are going in the wrong direction but before Lance can wonder what JC is doing, JC's back hits the wall, and everything becomes clear.

One last kiss and Lance takes both his hands out of JC's pants, kneeling on the floor, undoing JC's fly fully and dragging the pants and the underwear down. They've backed far enough away from the front door and the floor lamp that things are hard to see in the dim light, but when Lance is nose to dick with JC's crotch he realises that JC still waxes, that there's only vastness of pale skin, not a single dark hair anywhere on JC's torso or crotch or cock. 

Lance rubs his nose against JC's groin, ignoring JC's leaking cock for the moment, and just licks at the skin where hair should've been, tongue gentle on the soft, velvety skin. It's such a turn on that Lance has to stop so he doesn't come in his pants like a teenager. JC's shivering and gasping and trying not to move, as if he'd scare Lance off if he did, and then Lance can't wait anymore. 

He grabs the base of JC's dick and swallows him down, gagging because he's greedy and doesn't go as slow as he should. At the taste of JC on his tongue, so salty-familiar, the feel and weight of him, the memories rush back, and Lance wants to weep from joy and happiness that he has this back now, even if just for the night. He sucks and licks, more greed and lust than skill, but there's no time for tricks because it's been so long, and he just wants to take the edge off. JC's hands scrabble for purchase on the smooth wall before settling in Lance's hair.

Lance cups JC's balls, as hairless as his groin, rolling them in his palm before moving his hand back to tease at JC's hole. He presses against it, not even trying to wiggle his finger inside, and JC comes, just like that, flooding Lance's mouth and making him choke. Lance moves his head back and swallows, cupping a hand under his chin to catch any stray drops. If any of them land on his shirt, it's a write-off; he's not taking it to the dry cleaner's with semen stains on it.

JC shudders with post-orgasmic aftershocks, and Lance regretfully takes JC's dick out of his mouth, licking his way up silky smooth skin to JC's navel and dipping his tongue inside. Getting up, he kisses his way up JC's chest, and when JC's face swims into view, Lance leans in to kiss him. JC draws him close and flips them around, pushing Lance against the wall, fumbling with Lance's belt. He snakes his hands inside Lance's boxers, grabbing at his ass and kneading, his ring cold for a shocking moment against Lance's hot skin, still kissing as if his life depends on it. He moves one hand to the front, stroking Lance's dick with single-minded determination, and Lance barely has the strength to moan, much less wiggle in his grasp, but he manages to tear his mouth away to say, "Either blow me or don't touch me at all, but don't ruin my pants."

JC blinks then starts giggling, his hand still squeezing Lance's dick too tightly for comfort. Obligingly, however, he goes down on his knees, almost falling over since his pants are around his ankles. He undoes Lance's pants and pulls down underwear just enough to wrap his pretty mouth around Lance's cock. All it takes is a few sucks; Lance had been close ever since he realised that JC's crotch was waxed bare. Lance grunts and hits his head too hard against the wall, and the next thing he knows is JC staring at him, smiling like a Cheshire cat and licking his lips. Lance thinks this cat definitely got his cream, then laughs at the horrible cheesiness of his thoughts and licks at the corner of JC's mouth, catching a droplet of his own come.

With their arms around each other, pretending that it's affection and not their weak knees refusing to support them, they make their way into the bedroom, managing not to trip over their undone pants. The desperate lust is gone and in its place is only slow sweetness. They stand by the bed as JC at long last manages to get Lance's shirt buttons undone. Finally and blissfully naked, JC slides under sinfully red sheets and pulls at Lance, who's still standing by the bed.

"C'mon gorgeous," JC whispers with a smile, and Lance scampers to obey, crawling into JC's arms because he belongs there. He can't make his hands not touch; as if on their own volition, his fingers slide over JC's soft skin - over the sides, and upwards, trying not to tickle the bare armpit, then down over the back and over the chest again. There isn't a single hair on JC's torso. His forearms and calves are slightly hair-dusted, hair much lighter and sparser than it would've been naturally, and Lance suspects that JC had only stopped waxing them recently, to avoid unnecessary questions.

He remembers the first time he'd realised that JC did it. Back then, JC'd left his treasure trail untouched, because there were more chances of anyone seeing his bare stomach when changing into scrubs, and a hairless chest is easier to explain than lack of a treasure trail. When they'd first slept together, Lance'd spent almost an hour running his index finger back and forth over the thin trail leading from JC's belly-button, the soft hairs tickling at his skin. And then, JC'd come over one morning before flying out to Chicago to be with his family over Thanksgiving and they had gotten playful in Lance's living room. When Lance'd tugged at JC's pants, trying to get his lover naked as quickly as possible, he'd realised that he was seeing much more skin than he should've been.

Lance smiles when he remembers the look on JC's face, hopeful and lustful and expectant, and Lance had buried his face in JC's groin, skin soft and velvety to touch, and refused to ask if it was for him, or how much it had hurt. He was so turned on, he came while giving JC a handjob, just from watching one hand slide up and down JC's dick and caressing JC's hairless balls with the other.

JC had laughed, and they'd waited for Lance to recuperate so that they could fuck, JC riding Lance slowly as Lance held him by one hip and stroked the skin with his other hand. After, he'd told JC how much he loved it, how much it was turning him on, how much he loved the feel of silky skin under his fingertips.

When JC's eyes had lit up and he suggested that Lance should totally try it, Lance had politely demurred, kissing JC into oblivion to distract him. Lying in JC's arms now, his fingers flitting over JC's skin, Lance knows he's completely addicted. He decides he doesn't care. He falls asleep half-lying on JC's chest, one hand on JC's groin.

Lance wakes up in the morning, feeling well-fucked and well-loved. His lips are swollen and still stinging; JC is a biter and likes to nibble in-between kisses. Lance touches his fingertips to his lips and stretches; they'd rolled during the night, so now their position gives him a perfect reminder of his 'sleep-over' with Justin. Lance doesn't want to, but he feels that he should tell JC about it, if they're going to take the second chance and try again. 

Instead of rolling out of JC's arms, Lance snuggles deeper, shifting and rubbing his thigh against JC's morning erection. As always, that wakes JC right up, so when Lance learns how to breathe again, sprawled on the bed and feeling boneless, he gathers up the courage to say, "I slept with Justin."

JC, lying on his stomach and facing Lance, lazily opens his eyes and drawls, "Mmm. Yeah, and? I hear he fucks like a dream."

Lance blinks.

Then blinks again.

JC is looking at him through cat-like slits, seemingly sleepy with his eyes almost closed but not quite. It's hard to tell his expression or what he is thinking, and Lance can't figure out the nature of JC's tiny smile.

"How... where did you hear that?"

JC rolls onto his back, arching luxuriously and rubbing at his hip, finger-shaped bruises blooming across pale skin. "Nick dragged me to a party of a friend of a friend while you were writing your thesis, and Justin's stoned ex-girlfriend cornered me to tell me all about him. I now feel closer to Justin than I ever wanted to."

"Oh. I didn't... I mean... we didn't really... uh... we just, you know," Lance stammers out. "I mean, we didn't sleep-sleep together. We shared a bed. We weren't naked or anything."

"I know." JC rolls onto his side to face Lance. "Justin told me."

"Oh." Lance resents that JC had made him go through all that if he'd already known. And that while Justin had been going around telling everyone he 'slept' with Lance, neither Joey nor JC felt the need to afford the same courtesy about _their_ night together. Or if it had even existed.

JC hums and shifts; he doesn't look like he's going to be sharing any confessions in return for Lance's. Lance's mind suddenly flashes to a visual of Joey's big hands on JC's pale skin, fingers tracing the hairless expanse of it, and Lance squeezes his eyes shut. When JC leans over to kiss him, he automatically reaches to meet JC's lips with his own, but images of Joey flood Lance's head, and he can't even kiss JC properly, let alone express adequate interest in imminent activities. And Lance realises that they don't stand a chance, second or otherwise, as long as he's hung up on the whole 'JC and Joey' thing. Which he knows he shouldn't be, because Joey is still a friend, and Joey has strong moral fiber and ethics. Or, he used to.

Lance catches JC's hands in his own and slides out of bed.

"I'm sorry, babe, I got to go."

"Go where? Lance, it's Sunday morning. What can you possibly have to do?"

"I totally forgot. I was supposed to meet with this friend of Chris's. We might be collaborating on a project and fuck, I'm late already." 

JC looks bewildered. "You're meeting a potential collaborator on a Sunday?"

"Yeah, he's only in town for the weekend, and he's leaving early tomorrow morning for a conference in Zurich, so."

JC looks away. "Oh. Okay, then." He sounds hurt and confused.

Lance leans over, plants a kiss on JC's startled mouth, scoops up some clothes from the bedroom floor and runs downstairs to get dressed. Once there, he realises that he grabbed JC's underwear and tie instead of his own and completely forgot his socks, so he pulls his pants over his bare ass, and drops JC's things onto his suit jacket, after picking up his own.

There is a sound of heavy thumping on the stairs, and then JC is standing in front of him, still stark-naked and holding Lance's tie.

He proffers it to Lance and says, "Don't go. Not like this." He comes closer, slowly, as if approaching a skittish animal, and Lance looks at him with wide eyes and retreats until his back hits the wall and he's got nowhere to go.

"JC... I'm sorry."

He takes the tie from JC, and JC is so close that Lance can feel his body heat. He wants to kiss, to touch, to be taken back to bed where he can forget this entire mess, but instead he lets himself out of the apartment. He doesn't look back, and sits in the car until his hands stop shaking. He knows he did the right thing. It just doesn't seem like it right now, is all. And he had forgotten to ask JC if the Columbus Day coincidence was intentional or not.

***

Friday night, Nick leaves to go visit his brother. Chris doesn't understand why Aaron had gone back to Jane last year, but suspects that it was Aaron's way of taking care of Nick; he didn't want Nick to have extra responsibilities. Of course, Aaron's decision had made Nick even more vigilant, so Nick visits Aaron at least once a month, to make sure their mother hasn't gone off the deep end. Chris knows Nick calls Aaron several times a week but understands the need to visit and make sure that Aaron's all right. Chris finds it amusing that Nick doesn't worry about his three sisters nearly as much as he does about Aaron; on the other hand, Chris only has sisters so perhaps he can't understand the brotherly bond.

So Nick leaves, and on Sunday, Chris buys a case of beer and drives to Lance's, because Lance and JC have been mopey separately for a week, and when Chris asked about the date, Lance refused to talk about it. Since Chris knows Lance better and for longer, Lance is first.

When Chris rings the doorbell, Lance answers clad in nothing but his boxers. Chris whistles at him because yes, a committed relationship, but there's an almost-naked pretty boy in front of him; he can still look. The look Lance gives him is sour and far from amused so Chris doesn't slap his ass as he'd planned to do, just breezes into the apartment.

"So, Bass. How's love, how's life?"

Lance grunts in response. Later, even after six bottles of beer, Lance is still not feeling talkative, so Chris rummages in Lance's freezer and emerges triumphant with a bottle of Finlandia Cranberry clutched in his hand and freeze-burning his palm. Lance seems more receptive to vodka than beer, so some time later they sprawl on the floor, Chris on his back and Lance, still only in his boxers, perpendicular to him, his head on Chris's stomach. Lance is tipsy and babbling about JC's fingers, as far as Chris can tell; his hands flying as he gesticulates wildly. 

"Hey, La– Oh, hello!" Chris looks up, and there's his boyfriend in the open doorway of the balcony.

"Heeeeeeeeeey Nick," Lance drawls suggestively, and Chris pinches the soft skin of Lance's stomach, then rubs at the angry red spot he'd created. Lance raises one perfectly arched eyebrow in response, and Chris thinks with amusement that he still finds it sexy.

"So. I came back, and couldn't get Chris on his cell, and thought to drop by and see if you knew where my boyfriend is, but now I see that I don't need to." Nick sounds amused, and Chris is glad, because that means that the visit with Aaron had gone well.

Lance rolls over and props himself up on Chris, who is carefully watching Nick's face to make sure that Nick's okay with this. Chris wonders if Nick knowing that Chris and Lance used to be lovers makes him less or more jealous about Lance and Chris's physical ease with each other.

Nick doesn't look bothered, but Chris still pushes Lance off. "Go take a shower and get dressed, Bass." Lance sniffs at his armpit and gives Chris a drunkenly offended look. Chris just shrugs.

Lance forgoes the bathroom and moments later, comes out of his bedroom in old sweats and a green t-shirt advertising Atari in bright yellow. He leans over as if to sit down on the floor but loses his balances and tips over onto the couch.

"I'm mopey. I mope!" He declares expansively, and Chris turns to Nick and makes a bottoms-up sign to indicate they'd been drinking. Nick tries to raise an eyebrow but winds up raising both, and Chris smiles and returns the gesture - correctly because Lance had taught him - and points at the mostly empty vodka bottle on the coffee table. 

Chris and Nick make themselves comfortable on the floor by the couch, Chris slipping his arm around Nick's waist to caress his lower back. Nick squirms a little, and Chris dips his fingers below the waistband, fingertips skimming fuzzy skin until he's at Nick's tailbone. Nick grabs the wandering hand and pulls it into his lap, grinning at Chris. 

Lance sighs loudly, wistful and unhappy judging by his facial expression, and Chris rubs Lance's shoulder with his free hand.

"See," Lance starts, speech made slower by alcohol and his accent, which tends to pop up at the oddest of times. "I love JC. And he loves me. And we're one happy... Um. Fuck. But he's slept with Joey. Maybe. And I don't know if he did. I don't want to ask because I don't want the answer but like, I want to know. And I should know because Joey's my friend but I don't anymore. And I care. And we can't love each other because I care. Because we love each oth--" Lance trails off and falls asleep in the middle of the word.

Chris gets up and covers Lance with a soft fuzzy throw that Lance keeps over the back of the couch. He locks the balcony doors, and he and Nick leave through the front door, making sure it doesn't slam behind them.

Back at Chris's, Nick rummages in the drawer for Chinese take-out menus, while Chris slowly sips at his glass of grapefruit juice and tries to make sense of what Lance had said. Lance never mentioned anything but suddenly, Chris remembers the day of the pig surgery, Lance getting really drunk and Justin taking him home. Chris vaguely remembers JC and Joey leaving the bar together, arms around each other, but he'd thought at the time that JC was just drunk and Joey was taking him home. 

Joey is Lance's friend, and they'd hung out while Chris and Lance were 'whatevers,' but Chris doesn't know Joey enough to guess his favourite colour, or his favourite food. When they'd gone out to bars, Joey tended to leave with girls, but there had been one time when Chris went to the bathroom and walked in on Joey blowing some pretty Goth boy in the handicapped stall. 

Chris feels Nick's fingers carding through his hair, so he lifts his head to smile at him, and to share his thoughts. When he's done, Nick says, "So, you're saying that Joey's bi and that it's entirely possible that Lance wasn't just jealous and hallucinating?"

Chris shrugs. "In college, Joey and Lance used to be best friends. Now, Joey's not around much so I think they've drifted apart. And I think Joey wouldn't sleep with a friend's ex, and Lance wants to think he knows it but it bugs him that he doesn't, any more."

Nick says, "Well, fuck."

That about sums it up.

On Monday, Chris goes looking for JC to hear his version of the story. He finds him, as always, in the animal room, wearing pale pink scrubs. Chris chuckles. The 'official' scrub colour for most of the place is blue, and very few departments get colour-coded uniforms. Chris wonders, since he'd seen JC in scrubs of every colour, who keeps him supplied with them, or if JC just gets them from the supply closets himself.

"Hey JC," Chris says in an even voice, because JC is holding a syringe and a scalpel and it's probably a really bad idea to scare him.

JC puts his instruments down and beams at Chris, his eyes mere slits, "Hey man, what's up?"

Chris looks him up and down and whistles. "Pink? First, the 'Hello Kitty' lunch bag, and now this?"

JC rubs the sleeve of the shirt between his fingers self-consciously. "I like it. And the material is softer than blue scrubs. Also, how many times do I have to tell you? The lunch bag was blue and on sale, and it wasn't until you fuckers pointed out the damn cat that I realised it was there."

"Yeah? I think you _wanted_ a lunch bag with a pretty kitty on it."

JC shrugs, but he's smiling. Chris interprets his sly smirk as 'Don't hate me because I'm beautiful.' Even if JC doesn't mean that.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh sure, cat. Sure, what's up?" JC strips his gloves and lowers his face mask. He takes off his glasses and polishes them on the hem of his scrub shirt, scrunching up his nose in concentration. Ethereally pretty, Chris thinks, and idly wonders if he'd have gone for JC if things had been different. Probably. Unlike Lance and Nick, JC would've let him eat sugar, at least.

"I heard from Lance that you guys had a date a week or so ago. How was that?"

It's the wrong thing to ask. JC gives Chris a tiny, pained smile and puts his glasses and his mask back on. He mumbles something and Chris makes out a 'thank you' and 'don't want.' He figures JC doesn't feel like talking about it.

"I didn't mean–" To upset JC. To ask the wrong thing. "Sorry."

JC's back shrugs at him, and Chris leaves. He's feeling sad. It's strange to think that two guys who had been so in love just six months ago can now be having so much trouble simply communicating. He also knows that even though Lance was drunk when he said it, he was completely correct. Until Lance regains confidence in Joey, he won't be able to move on and grab a second chance with JC.

When Chris walks into his office, there is a huge bouquet of flowers on the table. He looks over at Dani and she raises her head from paper she's transcribing to explain that Johnny had sent a congratulatory bouquet for having yet another manuscript accepted in Science.

Chris stares at flowers with bemusement. This isn't the first bouquet Johnny had sent; it's almost a tradition now. Chris gets a manuscript accepted in Nature, Science, and JBC, and VP of Research sends him flowers. Chris plucks a flower from the vase; he doesn't know what kind it is, but it's pretty and several shades of pink and maroon, colours bleeding into each other to create a stunning overall tint.

Chris grabs one of the tall Styrofoam cups, which seem to be all over his office, writes 'Sorry' on it in purple Sharpie and fills the cup with water. Cutting the stem of the flower so that it's short enough for the cup, he places the flower in the water and carries the cup into the guys' office, putting it on JC's desk. It's a very pretty flower; JC will like it.

When Chris gets home, Nick is distressed and distraught, wearing out a trench in the living room floor with his pacing, and rubbing a bald spot in his buzzed hair because he has no spikes to tug at. 

"What's wrong?" Chris asks, even though he's willing to bet that it's about Aaron. Only Nick's family has the power to make Nick this upset.

Nick says that his little brother had just had a huge, explosive argument with their mother, and that Nick might've been the reason. There's really no time to explain; Nick wants to leave right away to get Aaron.

"Can I borrow your car?" Nick asks, because his is in the garage of his apartment building. He's been staying with Chris so much recently, going to work and leaving together, that there hasn't been a need for it. 

Chris gives him the keys, "Of course. I'll bum a ride with Lance in the morning and pick up your car after work." It doesn't even occur to him that since Nick's building is less than ten minutes away, he can just give Nick a ride to the car, instead. The only thing that matters is getting Aaron away from his mother, something Chris maybe should've insisted on last year, instead of letting Aaron go back to her. 

Nick leaves, and Chris pours himself a cup of black coffee and sits down at the kitchen table to think. He wonders if Lance knows any lawyers, or if maybe Dani does; he and Nick will need one soon, to keep Aaron with them. It's early November already; Aaron will need to enroll in school as soon as possible so as not to miss too many classes. Chris wonders if Nick moving in with him will help or hinder their case. On one hand, there are all these controversial issues to consider: they're both men, Chris is Nick's boss, etcetera. On the other hand, their relationship just might be the stable, loving environment that Aaron needs in his life right now. Chris's very own little fucked up family; just what he'd always wanted. Chris finishes his coffee and contemplates how he can explain to Nick that he's not at all sarcastic when he says that.

***

Lance really doesn't want to go to work. He knows, of course, that it has to do with fear of facing JC, and regrets, yet again, getting involved with a co-worker, because there's just no escaping the ex when he has to share the workspace. He's been thinking, on and off, and trying to do more of the 'off' than of the 'on,' about JC. And about Joey. And about them together. Lance wonders why the situation bothers him so much, and why he thinks Joey capable of hurting him; why he has doubts about Joey after years of being best friends. In the end, though, he winds up wishing every time that he and JC were like Chris and Nick, together and happy.

While Lance is in the lunch room, Justin comes in with Joey in tow, who's in town for the week but must have arrived late last night, because this is the first that Lance sees him. Joey looks big and cheerful and tanned and tired, and when he sees Lance he bellows, "Bass!" at him, and pulls him into a squashing hug, palm cupping the back of Lance's neck. Lance automatically puts his arms around him, hiding his face in the crook of Joey's neck and breathing in the familiar spicy scent of him - deodorant, after-shave, and Joey-scent. Joey places a loud, smacking kiss on the top of Lance's head, and Lance snuggles in, because Joey gives the best hugs ever, and Lance had missed them. Then, he realises he is fraternizing with a suspected enemy and lets go, stepping back. But Joey is already releasing him, having spied a new victim for his near-crushing bear hugs.

JC is caught unaware when Joey swoops in, snags an arm around JC's svelte waist, and heaves him over his shoulder, pinching JC's near-nonexistent ass with his free hand. Lance allows a smile over JC's squawk of indignation, while Justin fills the room with his braying laughter. Joey lowers JC back on the ground, arm still around JC's waist, twirls them both around, and then dips JC dramatically. JC's bendiness makes Lance's mouth go dry; no human being should be able to bend over backwards like that, folded almost in half. JC's giggling, his face turning red from the blood rushing down to his head, and Joey's mouth is hovering above JC's and Lance shouldn't watch, doesn't want to watch but can't help it anyway.

"Joey!" JC exclaims, laughter in his voice, and puts his arms around Joey's neck, pulling himself up. Joey plants a tender kiss on the tip of JC's nose, and another on his forehead. Lance watches the exchange silently. 

A little voice in the back of Lance's head tells him that maybe this excessively hands-on relationship is the result of Joey's customary physical affection coupled with JC's fondness for touching and being touched. It's only natural that the two find themselves partners in touchable crime. Lance glances over; Joey and JC are hugging. Joey's hug is solid; he embraces and squeezes while JC's hands are fluttering all over Joey's back, touching down for a moment and alighting to pet elsewhere. 

Lance blinks, and the next moment his eyes meet JC's over Joey's shoulder. JC's mouth is smiling but his eyes are sad and mopey, and Lance realises, in that instant, that he is an absolute idiot, and that Joey would never betray him by sleeping with JC. And that it's entirely possible that Joey, in his somewhat misguided way, had been so hands-on with JC to make Lance jealous and force him and JC back together. Lance is glad that Joey had been such a good friend to JC and had tried to make him happy when Lance couldn't. Lance smiles at JC, and blows him a kiss. JC closes his eyes and hides his smile in Joey's solid shoulder.

Chris walks in, singing, "What's the buzz, tell me what's happening?" and demanding to know why nobody is working. Justin attempts to inform him that Nick isn't even there yet but Lance shushes him with a glower. Justin doesn't know yet; Chris had told Lance what happened with Nick's brother only because Lance had demanded an explanation in exchange for the ride. But Lance knows that Chris doesn't want to be the subject of gossip in his own lab, so Lance keeps Justin quiet and hopes Chris will talk to Justin at some point.

Lance looks at Chris greeting Joey and wonders how he and Nick are doing. Chris looks cheerful enough for someone who's in the midst of a potentially relationship-ending battle for Aaron. Chris gives Joey a manly one-armed hug, then kicks him out of his lab and makes everyone do work. Lance gives JC one last wistful look and goes off to do microscopy, idly wondering how he can make Justin or Nick do it in his stead next time.

At the end of the day, Lance finds JC in the office. They're the only ones left - Chris got a ride back with Justin - and JC is sitting by his desk, staring off into space and absent-mindedly twirling a pretty flower inside its Styrofoam cup. It feels like a déjà-vu, only in reverse.

"Hey... Wanna have dinner with me?" Lance asks.

JC lifts his head and stops playing with the flower, looking straight at Lance. "Didn't we try this already?" He says with a small smile.

"Yeah. But this time I won't be a jackass. And, I don't know. Maybe it'll work?"

JC doesn't say anything, just gets up to put things away into his bag. He shuts down his computer and turns off the desk lamp. He still doesn't say anything.

Then, he turns around, stalks up to Lance, grabs him by the back of his head, and the next thing Lance knows he's getting kissed, quite thoroughly and with lots of tongue. When JC's hand worms its way under his shirt, Lance gets with the program and kisses back.

They part when they run out of air, of course. Lance wonders if he's doomed to define his life with clichés. But JC is looking at him coyly from under his lashes, lips shiny and red, and rubs his nose against Lance's in an Eskimo kiss. Lance feels something ticklish and bubbly rise up from the depths of his stomach. Or maybe from his toes; something like that. He puts his hand on the curve of JC's waist because he loves the feel of it beneath his palm, smooth and sleek and his. JC melts against him, raising his arms to Lance's shoulders. Lance skims his free hand down JC's back, then raises it to slide his fingers through JC's hair and tilt his head to one side, for easier access.

When Lance kisses the sweet spot below JC's ear, JC whispers, "I'm glad you got over yourself."

Later that night, lying next to soundly sleeping JC, Lance runs his fingers up and down JC's arm and wonders if they'd done the right thing. They will be wiser this time about the mistakes they'd made before but all the pressure stimuli and stress triggers are still in place, and knowing they're there doesn't make it any easier not to react to them.

And perhaps, this isn't the biggest risk of Lance's life, but he's got to take it if only because Chris won't let him hear the end of it if he doesn't. And who is he kidding? He's happier with JC than without; that must mean something. 

Lance rolls over and wraps himself around JC, sliding an arm around JC's waist and pulling him against his side. Even in his sleep, JC wriggles closer and burrows his nose in Lance's collarbone, so Lance kisses JC's sleep-warmed shoulder because he can. He hopes they last this time around. 

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to [jewelianna](http://archiveofourown.org/users/jewelianna88/) for the major beta and for the tips, and to [genee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/genee) for asking good questions.


End file.
